Holly King to Oak King
Samhain approach and the people know
To honor their dead, and fear
Loss of life of fields of rye.
They gather ’round their hearths–
Embers snuffed, later sacred fire–
Plates untouched but minds filled;
Tales of Lady Gwyn in white, who
With Pucah lead travelers on
Paths unlit, in claws of Faery Host.
But our story still main stage
You and I, their characters
In tales, plays– our life
On roots of strong Oak, blood bubbles
Barren earth cracks and parts
And come a battle we weary for
Round snuffed hearths and sacred fire,
People tell of grandness, honor, and
–forget. Pain and curse is our fate;
From you, I learned all
My darkness, you tempered
Wild energy, steered true
My king, my light, I owe all, and
All I took and all you take, in
This tale we play;
Samhain approach and the people know
You rise again, take your throne, and
My turn to fall on Holly root.
They know not how I– we
Are cursed to rule, hate, betray
So keep life turning on the wheel
On, they live and spin the tales
’Round hearths of sacred fire
Bellies filled with life from death.
Under earth and root, I wait the turn
Sabbats pass, I cry to dirt unheard
“When, my Oak King, may I love you?”
